Predicaments
by Zuzubirds
Summary: ..."No, no, don't even try to apologize, Mako! I'm sure I can come up with a very reasonable excuse for why we're locked in Tenzin's closet. Naked. While Tenzin is here. Also naked. Oh man, this'll look good on the morning report, won't it?" M/K, Post-season finale


_Mmmhmm, my first LoK fic. And it's Makorra. Just so you know. _

_Anyway, it took a lot of threats by SHE-WHO-SHALL-NOT-BE-NAMED for me to post this, and so here it is. I have about five LoKs pending but I don't have the courage to set them free. ...So cheesy, ain't it. _

_Reviews are like hugs. Or pats on the back. Or... pie. Because everyone likes pie amirite. _

_*Awkward turtle* _

_Let the games begin! _

_..._

* * *

It started after dinner.

It started because the _thing _between Korra and Mako finally had a name. Korra wouldn't acknowledge it, of course, since after all she had her pride. And she wasn't about to be titled 'girlfriend' or some such nonsense.

Korra belonged to _nobody. _

But it was weird, going through her day and not being able to concentrate on anything but Mako's smirk, and when Tenzin sniffed at her impatiently (since she couldn't get the _stupid air ball_ right), she grinned at him.

It worried her. Even more than it worried Tenzin. And _Tenzin_ asked if she was all right in the head today. The only thing she could do in good conscience was shrug.

The _predicament_ between Korra and Mako reared its fat ugly head that night, the night when Tenzin's brother Bumi met them at the Southern Water Tribe and Korra began _real _airbending training. Bumi was the only one who laughed when Bolin—quite presumptuously—said, _Man, your family sure has some **crazy **genes, doesn't it? _

Bolin meant well. But Tenzin looked almost… miserable. He hid it fine, and yet Korra prides herself on seeing through things like that.

Asami and General Iroh were not so discreet. (Asami helped Pema with dinner, like she had been lately, and _miraculously _Iroh got more coddling. More tea. More subtle fingertip-brushes whenever Asami gave him something. Now, _Iroh _himself didn't seem to notice, but Korra caught the other girl's eye and saw her blush.) Meelo noticed this, and kicked Iroh before getting up and storming away. Iroh choked on his tea. Cue the lovely Asami.

That was when Mako put his hand on Korra's leg, under the table.

His skin was cold from South Pole air, but Korra felt a (nonexistent) penetrating heat that spread from his fingers to her face. Now _she _was blushing. She hoped Mako couldn't tell. For a moment, she halted in her seat, chopsticks hovering midair, before she forced herself to shrug it off and keep eating. Talking. Laughing.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a warning glance. But he smiled. That little, irritating smirk that had occupied her thoughts all that day. And she knew she was lost.

.

.

It happened after dessert.

Rohan began to wail, and that was the beginning of it. Tenzin and Pema looked at each other indulgently, excusing themselves to see to him, and then everything got _awkward. _

Katara left. She'd been the only one at the table to eat stewed sea prunes, and she looked a little hurt at the fact. But just before she stood, Korra popped one into her mouth and watched her waterbending teacher perk up.

She waited until Katara was gone to spit it back out.

Korra _hated _sea prunes.

Once Bolin had eaten (all of the) egg custard tarts and belched loudly enough to make Jinora grimace, he sighed happily and announced that he and Pabu were knackered. He stood and wandered off.

This made Korra nervous.

Because after him Iroh, then Asami, then Ikki and Jinora, then strangely happy Lin, then the creepy White Lotus sentries all got up_. _They went to their rooms without a backward glance. And this left Korra and Mako, Mako and Korra, staring and blushing and fidgeting respectively.

When Mako stared at Korra, she almost knew what it meant, and she felt an empty space where her stomach used to be. They'd confessed that they loved each other not so long ago, and a mantra with those words did everything to help her shell to crack.

_He loves me. He loves me. I love him. _

Then he stood. And she stood.

And when he kissed her, she put up no fight at all.

This continued this in place before going down the (wrong) hallway, a struggle of quiet dominance and pushing against walls, until Korra was breathless and Mako's own exhales were hot and humid on her throat. He fumbled at her shirt, and she fumbled at his although she did nothing more once it was off. Korra was only glad that he hadn't gotten _anywhere else _yet, as she wasn't quite ready.

…Was she?

Katara had warned her about this feeling. Lust, she called it. Lust clouds vision and judgment, she said, and when it passes, whether it was revealed to the right person decides if the aftershock is one of guilt or pleasant surprise. Often times, the experience with the wrong person ends in enduring grief. Katara spoke of this emphatically, and so Korra paid attention. She swore she'd never let herself lose control.

Funny.

_What about Mako? _ Korra thought. _Guilt or pleasant… surprise? _

At the moment… the Avatar knew she didn't genuinely care. The only feeling she could pick out beside desire was jealousy, because one does not learn to _kiss_ _that good _without practice. This particular thought made Korra strive to be Mako's _best, _and so she pressed her inexperienced mouth harder to his. She fisted her hands in his tunic and mimicked the noises he made, with a slightly more helpless inflection as he seemed to like it better. It was messy. It was scorching. It was wonderful.

When Mako stopped, pushed open a sliding door and pulled them inside, Korra pulled away slightly and asked, "Your room?" with only a flutter of trepidation.

Mako said, "Yes," and dragged her back in.

Korra did not know _how, _but she soon found herself only in her white cloth bindings as she kicked away her boots—they were modest, but she still felt entirely exposed in them. Her partner was of the same difficulty, only _he _wore underclothes on the lower half of his body alone, and they weren't _nearly _as… shielding. Kiss after kiss almost made Korra dizzy and yet she met him for each. Korra never backed down from a fight. This struggle for power was no exception.

The firebender led her to the center of the room, where paintings and old wooly rugs were blurring in and out of her vision, and she raked her fingernails sharply through his hair. She'd read it in a scroll and he seemed to like it and they were _almost there—_

But then a voice broke the moment. And it was Tenzin's voice.

Mako muttered what Korra knew to be a very immoral term and jumped back, while she flushed and (after a period of recuperation) began to panic. Her lips were too swollen to say anything eloquently for a few moments, but when she did, the words would not be pleasant.

"This _isn't your room_!" she forced out, breathing harshly. Mako shushed her and stumbled back. He looked _almost _as horrified as Korra, but was covering it up with his masculinity, and his eyes searched wildly around the chamber.

"I _know!_" he whispered angrily, before pulling her by the arm a few paces into an open closet. She hit the side ice wall once inside and hugged herself, glaring and shivering. South Pole? Cold. No Mako for warmth? She scowled.

Even colder.

"—very well, I'm sure he'll be all right for the night, Pema," came Tenzin's voice from just outside. He was rubbing his head. And he was— _he was—_

Korra stifled a shriek.

Then, "What?" came from Tenzin.

And, "Oh. Well, try and hurry, will you?"

Then it was silent.

She and Mako were peering out through one of the cracks in the—surprisingly—wooden door, and Mako sighed in apparent relief. Korra worked her mouth uselessly for a moment, blushing harder than she'd ever blushed before, and immediately embarrassment turned to outrage.

"He's gone for now," Mako said quietly. Then he turned, and once he saw the look on Korra's face, winced. He looked apologetic for the outcome of the night, but Korra wasn't going to let him get off that easy. "Look, I'm s—"

Korra waved a hand and cut him off. She knew her gaze was steely enough to make him back down, but even that didn't mollify her. Good thing she was too shocked to be hysterical. "No, no, don't even _try_ to apologize, Mako! I'm sure I can come up with a _very_ reasonable excuse for why we're locked in Tenzin's closet. Naked. While Tenzin is here. Also naked. Oh man, this'll look _good_ on the morning report, won't it?"

She slumped against herself, holding her face in her hands.

"What are we going to do?" she mumbled.

"We could make a run for it—"

"No." she was agitated. She wanted him to stop talking. "With Tenzin, running away _never works. _Trust me."

Mako grunted. But though Korra knew he was about to ask what _her almighty plan was, _he never got the opportunity to, because Tenzin was back and he had seen the clothing on the floor.

"What the…" he said, baffled, bending down and then holding up the pelt Korra wore around her waist. "Korra?"

"…Shoot," Korra whispered desolately, and clutched at Mako. "Shoot. He's on to us."

Tenzin was not incompetent. Tenzin, though very naked, was not dumb. And when he saw a suspicious trail, even of clothing, he followed it. He was making his way to the closet and Korra was cursing and trying to climb all over Mako and Mako was dying from mortification and trying to keep her quiet, when the man opened the door and saw the two, twisted together like undercooked pretzels.

He blanched.

"_WHAT—_"

.

.

It ended the next morning.

Korra woke up to the sound of White Lotus Sentries chatting outside her door, which they never did because they'd never been posted there before. She felt like yelling at them—a headache was killing her—until memories of the previous night invaded her vision and Korra choked on her breath.

What an _idiot _she'd been.

But maybe she'd be able to laugh about it one day. It was the only positive thought she had and she clung to it like she presently clung to her pillow, which she then buried her face in and groaned. How on _earth _was she supposed to face Tenzin now? Now that she'd seen things only his _wife _was supposed to, and hid in his closet after making out in the wrong bedroom.

For now Korra would blame Mako. It seemed reasonable and morbidly hilarious when she recalled the expressions that made up his face for the entirety of the night, and the last one she'd seen in which his face was redder than his favorite scarf.

Yes, she'd blame him and it would make everything better. It helped; when she dressed and went down the hall, seeing _everyone _at the breakfast table almost made her run out into the wilderness.

Almost everybody went back to eating after greeting her, but a few eyes stayed and roamed over her face, her hair, her new shirt. The other had ripped. But they didn't need to know.

Asami said, "Rough night?" and Mako and Tenzin not-so-restrainedly coughed.

But Korra smiled falsely. And she said, "You have _no_ idea."

Because the _thing _between Korra and Mako finally had a name.

…

And now, it had a story.

* * *

_A/N: You like? Pourquoi? No? Pourquoi!_

_Edit... I officially ship Makorra now. Woot woot! _

_See you next time. _

_Zuzubirds, awaaaayyyy! _

_~Z_


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